


nutcracker

by Waywarder



Series: Simply Having an Ineffable Christmastime [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Hand Holding at the Theatre is my FAVORITE THING, Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-26 17:00:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21631711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waywarder/pseuds/Waywarder
Summary: In which our favorite angel and demon head to the ballet.Part of Drawlight's 31 Days of Ineffables Holiday Challenge!
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Simply Having an Ineffable Christmastime [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1558789
Comments: 4
Kudos: 57





	nutcracker

An orchestra tuning up had always been one of Aziraphale’s favorite sounds, and Crowley knew it. The demon didn’t pretend not to stare as the angel leaned over the mezzanine, wiggling a little as he did in his excitement. 

“Happy, angel?” 

“Oh, my dear. Positively blithe.”

Crowley grinned. Because he was happy, too. It was really remarkable what kissing an angel could do to change one’s tune about Christmastime, but there he was, a glass of wine in one hand, Aziraphale’s hand in the other, and getting ready to watch _The Nutcracker._

Because they were finally… dating? And, dammit, they were going to go on dates. Right proper Christmas-y dates. Crowley was going to sweep the angel off his Yuletide-loving feet. 

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale had been so delighted when Crowley first showed him the tickets. “You shouldn’t have.” Everything about Aziraphale’s beaming face confirmed for Crowley that yes, he absolutely should have.

They had been to the ballet before, of course. But the act of being in public together had always been its own dance: don’t be too familiar, don’t be too fond, don’t be found out. Stay stiff, stay alert, stay safe. 

Point your toes. Repeat.

Crowley felt _defiantly_ in love as they’d approached the theatre, his arm triumphantly around Aziraphale’s waist. Sure, he couldn’t dance, but he wanted to drag Aziraphale down to the stage all the same, and wheel the angel around, and bask in the reality that no one could hurt them for it anymore. 

When they had walked up to the bar in the ornate lobby, and Crowley had ordered two drinks, he’d almost hoped that the bartender would bother to ask him, “Oh, is one of these for your friend, sir?” In response to which Crowley would have jumped up on the bar to exclaim to the entire assembly, “No! Not for my friend, not for my work associate, not for my hereditary enemy! FOR MY SWEETHEART.”

(Aziraphale would have likely tutted over his shoes on the bar.)

In the seat beside him, Aziraphale was chattering happily about the original story upon which the ballet was based. Aziraphale chattering happily had always been one of Crowley’s favorite sounds. Crowley didn’t have much to offer the conversation. He was too intently focused on tracing his thumb gently over Aziraphale’s, over and over. 

To be so open in his love was a freedom Crowley never expected to enjoy after six thousand years of pretending. That anyone should ever feel the need to hide over something so wonderful… a spark of anger flared in Crowley’s chest, and he gripped Aziraphale’s fingers tighter.

“What is it, dear heart?” Aziraphale sensed every shift in him.

“I don’t think this will ever stop feeling like a dream to me, angel,” Crowley admitted. “Getting to really be with you. Still feels impossible.” 

And now Aziraphale tightened his hold on Crowley’s hand. “It’s all possible, Crowley. This love story of ours… we can write it however we like now. What do you want, my darling?”

The lights hadn’t even gone down yet.

“Kiss me. Please.”

And, right there, in the light, as thousands of other theatregoers milled and murmured about them, Aziraphale and Crowley leaned into one another, and kissed freely. And when the lights did go down, they held one another’s hands. And sometimes, just because he wanted to, Crowley leaned over to kiss Aziraphale on the cheek. And once, during Act Two, because he was an exceptional, beautiful bastard, Aziraphale let one hand wander to rest on Crowley’s upper thigh. And for all the thinking Crowley had been doing about the subject all evening, it was Aziraphale who leaned into his ear as the final waltz struck up, and whispered, rather firmly:

“I love you with my whole heart, Anthony J. Crowley.” 

As applause broke out around them, they fell into one another’s arms again.

The applause could (should) have been for them.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much for reading!


End file.
